So Timmy Loo was brought home, and each girl told him what he was to do, and showed him Millicent’s shoes and gloves and dresses until the poor little dog was quite bewildered.
But he finally understood, and with a bound he sprang upon Marjorie’s bed, which, by the way, was covered with clean shirt-waists and stiffly starched skirts just home from the laundry.
“Oh, Tim, get off those clothes!” cried Marjorie; but Tim only danced around on them and barked.
Then he flew to the pillows, and, though much tangled up in the frills of one of Jessie’s clean aprons, he burrowed until he disclosed some tangled curls and a tortoise-shell comb.
“There she is!” cried Marjorie; and, flinging back the counterpane, they saw a flushed, rosy face.
“I’ve been asleep,” said Millicent, yawning and stretching. “What do you girls want? Oh, I was hiding, wasn’t I? Well, I hid in such a nice place I inadvertently took a nap, and I’ve had lovely dreams.”
“Get up,” cried Betty; “you’re spoiling all the clean clothes, and—you’ve won the prize.”
“Have I? Goody! And I haven’t hurt the clothes a bit. Tim did, though, and he woke me up jumping on me.”
Then Millicent slid out of the bed, did up her hair, and was led downstairs in triumph to receive her prize.
It was presented by Betty, “because,” as she said, “I came next nearest to getting it, and so I ought to have the melancholy pleasure of handing it over to me hated rival.”